Game Over
by Amethyst Asheryn
Summary: Unrevised, consequently a bit OOC. Marco's last thoughts after the end of book 54. 'No more quarters, Marco. No more lives, Marco. Try again later, Marco...' Rated T for some swear words.


A/N: Originally started out as sort of a protest

A/N: Originally started out as sort of a protest. Ended up as something different.

But while we're on the subject – here was the original a/N:

This is my protest against fanfics continuing the Animorphs series past book 54, as Marco's last thoughts. It's over, people, and continuing it in your imaginations won't bring it back. Sorry, but that's life.

Game Over

Have you ever been in a spaceship that's just crumpled due to a collision with another spaceship?

Thought not.

I have. And you know what, what really pisses me off, what really just makes me want to start crying?

I'm not going to be coming back from this one. I've been inside a crumpling spaceship, ladies and germs, and it's the last thing I'll ever get to see. That and the One, but nobody wants to see… it, I guess. Her.

But isn't it just my luck that this is exactly _what_ I'll see last? Yeah, well, luck abandoned us a long time ago for somewhere saner. So it doesn't matter.

It's getting really heated up in here – I think something's on fire. I don't know why nobody's doing anything about it – maybe we could save the Rachel.

But no, maybe we can't. See, there's this little problem. There's blood on the viewscreen, and I can see someone crumpled on the other side of the cabin. Don't have a clue who, but that's one less person to put out whatever fire's going on in here.

I'm looking around, and you know what I'm seeing? Sparking panels, Jake's cadets inert near the view screen, Menderash slumped over the control panel, and Tobias sprawled on the floor.

And – dammit – I'm starting to cry. Me, can you believe it – magnificent, mighty, vertically-challenged Marco. Yeah, well, just… just stop believing it.

Okay… I'm just… going to sit down, even though sitting down is almost impossible now with the ship spinning wildly out of control.

But dammit, this isn't happening. I don't believe it, don't believe everything's over. This is one of my nightmares, and when I wake up I'm going to creep over to Jake's and strangle him while he's asleep for dragging me into this. I'm just asleep, and none of this is happening. Believe it. My life isn't over – not now, not when I have everything.

I'm not writing this. No, I'm not _thinking _this. You're not reading this.

Goddamn it all – I was never good at fooling myself. Sure, I could always fool others, but never myself.

It's almost too hot in here to breathe now. My life _is_ over, I can see the end looming up. Game over, Marco. Sorry, no high score. You're out of quarters this time, dude, come back when you've got some more.

Yeah right. Like I'll ever be able to try again. Not now. Sorry, but this Animorph doesn't have any more quarters to spend on this damn game called life.

Oh. Now I can see the fire. It's eating through the back wall, and at the same time, there's one on the opposite side. I don't know how that happened. It's making the control panels spark like nothing else in the world. Things are popping, exploding, almost like fire works.

Game over, Mighty Marco. Try again later.

I don't know where we'll end up. Maybe in a black hole somewhere, why do I care? I'm about to die anyway, so why does it matter? Only I'd kind of like to know where my charred body ends up. I mean, who wants their body to end up cremated in a sun or decaying on some desert planet nobody's ever heard of?

Not me.

But I can't stop it if it does land there.

Walls are caving in now. There's a hole in the side – air's leaking out now. I don't know how long I've got left. Not long. Not in this vacuum.

Game over, Marco. Sorry, try again later.

No high score, Marco. No more quarters, Marco. It's over, Marco. No more life, Marco. No more Marco. Game over.

Here it comes. The oxygen's mostly all gone now – it's hard to breathe. I'm holding my breath. I'm crying. Yes, me. Well, it's kind of a mixture of choking on no air and trying to sob out loud. Like gagging. But I can't hear much anymore either – no air to carry sound.

Damn. No more air _at all_ now. No more air, Marco. Game over, Marco. Can't try again. Sorry, that was your last life.

Everything's being sucked out into the vacuum. It's hard to hold my pencil. It's shaking. I'm shaking. I can't breathe. Still crying, I think – cold on my face, like my tears have frozen in the vacuum.

Game over, Marco. No lives left, Marco.

The vacuum's pulling me in. Sucked out of the ship. Second Rachel Jake's let die. … Dying. Still trying to cry, but can't breathe enough to do it. No breath left, no air. No life left – cold, freezing, like the Arctic wilderness-

Game over, Marco. No life left. No air left.

I… can't hold the pencil… I can't clench my fist anymore… can't hardly feel… anything…

Game over, Marco…

My chest – constricting – choking – trying to choke –

Game over, Marco. No lives left. No quarters. Game over. Game…

… Game…

… Ga…

…


End file.
